It is early on a Saturday morning, and I am standing in the middle of a field in Northern France. The morning sun, high above the clouds, has not yet dispersed the mist, and it clings to the trees scattered around me and floats just above the green grass that reaches out in all directions. As the piercing cold stings my hands, I perceive the profound silence here, miles from the closest town. Usually being enveloped in such an environment would be peaceful, but the scene before me today is, in contrast, haunting. Planted around me are thousands of black crosses, marking the final resting place of over 44,000 German soldiers from the First World War. This is the German cemetery at Neuville St-Vaast. It is our first stop of the day in a week that has been filled with site visits and orientation on the battlefields of the Great War in France.
Our training started Monday, five days before, with a whirlwind of administrative processes and briefings on the Vimy and Beaumont-Hamel sites, as well as all Canadian memorials maintained by Veterans Affairs Canada in Europe. Much of our direction was delivered by VAC Admin in France, but also via teleconference from various people back home at Veterans Affairs in Charlottetown. Over the course of two days we filled out tax and employee forms, toured both the Vimy and Beaumont-Hamel site, received instruction on how to drive in France and for over an hour, with much trial and error, were outfitted with our bright green and red uniforms, complete with a couple golf shirts, a dress shirt, dress pants, belt, fleece sweater, rain coat, wind-breaker, splash pants, toque, and neck-warmer, with ties for the guys and scarves for the girls.
By Wednesday morning, most of the formalities had been dealt with, and we settled in for a couple days of solid classroom instruction. What followed could be described as a two-day ultra-intensive University-level WWI course. We covered, at length, the ranks and structure of the Canadian military, with a crash course in HQ organization and logistics on the front. This was followed by instruction on the range, technical issues and evolution of guns, artillery and weapons during the Great War. Then we tried to keep up with a four-hour brief on the First World War in general, focusing on major battles, campaigns and strategies of all sides on all fronts. Then the French Red Cross took an hour of our day to explain how to dial '18' (European '911').
Thursday consisted of eight more hours of classroom instruction, this time with more specific focus on the Battle of the Somme, including Beaumont-Hamel, and the Battle of Arras, including Vimy Ridge. Although the instruction on both Wednesday and Thursday were phenomenal, I still struggled to stay awake, as the lingering effects of jet-lag were allowing me only 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night. Either way, by the end of the day Thursday we had more info and background on the First World War than we know what to do with. The next two days would help us put it all in context.
On Friday we visited close to a dozen sites involving the Battle of the Somme. Braving the biting cold, we took a full tour of the remains of the battlefield at Beaumont-Hamel, before driving to different cemeteries, towns and random fields to get a lay of the land as it stood on July 1st, 1916; the first day of the four-month battle. Seeing the lines as drawn across the miles of countryside, the size of the craters that were blown that morning to initiate the attack, the extensive German fortifications behind their 2nd line at Pozières and the countless war cemeteries that dot the countryside of Northern France were all eye-opening experiences. To trudge through the mud in the path of these soldiers and to visit the cemeteries where they fell (some as young as 16 or 17) quickly brings the reality of war into focus. I am doubtful that a higher-quality tour of the battlefields of the Great War exists.
And so, when I found myself in the middle of a massive cemetery on Saturday morning, I felt better-equipped to comprehend the context of where we stood and the events that led to these men being buried in this foreign field. Over the course of the day we would visit several Canadian memorial sites and get better oriented in how the lines were drawn at the Battle of Arras. By 5:00, as we gazed at the imposing rear slope of the ridge that Canadians had fought and died capturing, we were all freezing, exhausted and hoping that, somehow, all of the info that we had been taught over the past six days would somehow be absorbed into our brains. Most of us were also ready for a beer.
Sunday was a near-carbon copy of the one before, with late mornings all-around. In the evening, I walked through Arras with Reta, Kristina and Becky for Mass at the beautiful L'église St. Jean-Baptiste. It seemed a fulfilling conclusion to what had been an extremely busy, but incredible week. One would expect our next week, however, to include a another steep learning curve, as we would begin to put our training into action. The next day would be our first in uniform.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Vimy Shuffle - Part III
Sunday started slower than most for the crew both here and at the other guide house at St-Aubert. The sleeping endurance title went to our most recent arrival, Jenna, who clocked in at 14 hours of sleep, on her way to extinguishing some of the jet-lag that we had all incurred over the past week. My roommate Colin, Jenna and I spent our last evening before training walking the cobblestone streets and seeing Arras by night.
When awoke early the next morning to get ready to head to Vimy Ridge, the house was freezing. The stone floors felt like ice, making getting out of both bed and the shower and extra challenge at such an early hour. At some point during the night our heaters had shut off, leaving the house barely warmer than outside. We made it out of the house on time, but to no shortage of grumbled complaints. We, along with the guides from St-Aubs, jumped into two white cars with "Canada" emblazoned on the side for the trek to Vimy Ridge, some 20 minutes outside Arras.
The Battle of Vimy Ridge was part of the larger British offensive known as the Battle of Arras, undertaken on April 9th, 1917. It marks the first time that the four Divisions of the Canadian Corps fought together, taking on three Divisions of the German Sixth Army in order to secure a ridge that had eluded both French and British troops in past attempts. After an extensive artillery barrage and meticulous planning, the Canadian Corps advanced at 5:30am on Easter Monday, 1917. By the evening of April 12th, three days later, Canada had firm control of the ridge and the surrounding countryside. The battle established Canada as a formidable fighting force, one that lead the charge in the defeat of Germany the following year, and has been known for generations as "a nation-making moment". Said one veteran after the battle "We went up the ridge as Albertans and Nova Scotians. We came down as Canadians."
The costs were heavy as well, however, as Canada suffered 10,602 casualties with 3,598 killed and 7,004 wounded during the battle. As a result of Canada's incredible success in the battle at Vimy and unprecedented contribution to the war, it signed the Treaty of Versailles as an independent nation, and would later gain complete independence from Great Britain in all matters, including foreign affairs, with the Statute of Westminster in 1931. In gratitude to the Canadian people, France granted a 260-acre parcel of land on the site of where the battle occurred in perpetuity to Canada, where the breath-taking Vimy Ridge Memorial was completed in 1936. As well as a commemoration of the Battle of Vimy Ridge, it stands as a memorial for all Canadian soldiers who fell in France with no known grave, their names engraved in stone around the base of the structure. The site today is also comprised of the remains of trenches and shell craters, as well as 500 metres of underground tunnels that once snaked for kilometres under the battlefield on both the Canadian and German sides.
Vimy remains a watershed moment in Canadian history, and as a proud Canadians and a historian at heart, the battle has interested me since I first heard about it in Grade 6, and my interest has only deepened as I studied it further through High School and during my undergraduate degree at UPEI. Part of my job will be informing visitors about the contributions of Canadians here, and of those of the Newfoundland Regiment at Beaumont-Hamel during the Battle of the Somme. Monday morning, however, was to be my first time seeing it in person.
The Chemin des Canadiens snakes into the commemorative park between convolutions that fold the landscape into mounds around pits and pockmarks carved by artillery and explosives long ago. The soft green grass and trees that have grown in the 94 years since betray the story of the brutal battle, but also create an eerie silence amidst the fog that often clings to the forest here. This is the final resting place of many Canadians whose bodies were never recovered, and there are untold numbers of unexploded and undiscovered shells that hide somewhere deep in these mounds. The impact of this sight was perhaps stronger than that of seeing the monument itself, which is no small statement, as the two white pillars of the Vimy Memorial reaching 40 metres above the French countryside is a spectacular sight.
We began the day with introductions and then progressed through the usual administrative and introductory work to familiarize ourselves with our roles and responsibilities as guides with the Government of Canada. This was followed with a brief tour of the memorial itself, and then of the tunnels used by Canadians during the battle, some eight metres below the surface. We then drove to Beaumont-Hamel to visit the Newfoundland Memorial, about sixty minutes away.
The Battle of the Somme represents for many the senseless and brutal slaughter that was the Great War. In the first day of the battle alone, the British Empire lost 60,000 men - and this was a battle that lasted nearly four months. The Royal Newfoundland Regiment, made up of men from the Dominion of Newfoundland (independent from Canada until 1949), has been transferred to the Western Front from their post in Gallipoli in March of 1916, and was part of the 29th British Division on the first day of the Somme. It remains an infamous day in British military history, but particularly for the people of Newfoundland.
When the Newfoundland Regiment advanced the morning of July 1st, 1916, they faced barbed wire defenses and artillery fire, and struggled to advance over the bodies of the dead and wounded men who had faced the same perils minutes before. Pinned down by heavy machine gun fire, the Newfoundlanders relented in their push and moved back towards their trench, only to be gunned down as they retreated. They suffered a horrendous casualty rate of 90% and of the 780 Newfoundlanders who had gone over the top, 68 answered roll call the following morning.
A lone caribou stands watch over the remains of the battlefield today, representing Newfoundland and the caribou on the crest of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment. The land it overlooks is the largest section of the Battle of the Somme that remains, the rest now stretching out as tranquil farmland in all directions.
After visiting Beaumont-Hamel, we returned to Arras, only to find that our house was still frigid. As it turns out, we were out of oil, and none could be delivered until the following day. Mercifully, several space heaters had been dropped off for our use. We plugged in a few of them and began to cook supper. Meanwhile, as we turned on the electrical heaters around the house, we threw the circuit, leaving the house in complete darkness, and our meals cold. Unable to fix the problem with the usual fuse box-flick, we called in a repairman, and went off in search of fries via fry wagon, or some other such French delicacy. We found one down the street and, after ordering, returned home and sat down for our first family meal together at Vauban, bonding over heaping portions of fries and croque-monsieurs, or other such sandwiches.
With the power restored, we re-set our alarm clocks and climbed into out cold beds in our cold house. However, our grumbling complaints from that morning were perhaps somewhat muted after having walked through the fields where Canadians had suffered far worse conditions and awaited far worse fates so many years ago.
When awoke early the next morning to get ready to head to Vimy Ridge, the house was freezing. The stone floors felt like ice, making getting out of both bed and the shower and extra challenge at such an early hour. At some point during the night our heaters had shut off, leaving the house barely warmer than outside. We made it out of the house on time, but to no shortage of grumbled complaints. We, along with the guides from St-Aubs, jumped into two white cars with "Canada" emblazoned on the side for the trek to Vimy Ridge, some 20 minutes outside Arras.
The Battle of Vimy Ridge was part of the larger British offensive known as the Battle of Arras, undertaken on April 9th, 1917. It marks the first time that the four Divisions of the Canadian Corps fought together, taking on three Divisions of the German Sixth Army in order to secure a ridge that had eluded both French and British troops in past attempts. After an extensive artillery barrage and meticulous planning, the Canadian Corps advanced at 5:30am on Easter Monday, 1917. By the evening of April 12th, three days later, Canada had firm control of the ridge and the surrounding countryside. The battle established Canada as a formidable fighting force, one that lead the charge in the defeat of Germany the following year, and has been known for generations as "a nation-making moment". Said one veteran after the battle "We went up the ridge as Albertans and Nova Scotians. We came down as Canadians."
The costs were heavy as well, however, as Canada suffered 10,602 casualties with 3,598 killed and 7,004 wounded during the battle. As a result of Canada's incredible success in the battle at Vimy and unprecedented contribution to the war, it signed the Treaty of Versailles as an independent nation, and would later gain complete independence from Great Britain in all matters, including foreign affairs, with the Statute of Westminster in 1931. In gratitude to the Canadian people, France granted a 260-acre parcel of land on the site of where the battle occurred in perpetuity to Canada, where the breath-taking Vimy Ridge Memorial was completed in 1936. As well as a commemoration of the Battle of Vimy Ridge, it stands as a memorial for all Canadian soldiers who fell in France with no known grave, their names engraved in stone around the base of the structure. The site today is also comprised of the remains of trenches and shell craters, as well as 500 metres of underground tunnels that once snaked for kilometres under the battlefield on both the Canadian and German sides.
Vimy remains a watershed moment in Canadian history, and as a proud Canadians and a historian at heart, the battle has interested me since I first heard about it in Grade 6, and my interest has only deepened as I studied it further through High School and during my undergraduate degree at UPEI. Part of my job will be informing visitors about the contributions of Canadians here, and of those of the Newfoundland Regiment at Beaumont-Hamel during the Battle of the Somme. Monday morning, however, was to be my first time seeing it in person.
The Chemin des Canadiens snakes into the commemorative park between convolutions that fold the landscape into mounds around pits and pockmarks carved by artillery and explosives long ago. The soft green grass and trees that have grown in the 94 years since betray the story of the brutal battle, but also create an eerie silence amidst the fog that often clings to the forest here. This is the final resting place of many Canadians whose bodies were never recovered, and there are untold numbers of unexploded and undiscovered shells that hide somewhere deep in these mounds. The impact of this sight was perhaps stronger than that of seeing the monument itself, which is no small statement, as the two white pillars of the Vimy Memorial reaching 40 metres above the French countryside is a spectacular sight.
We began the day with introductions and then progressed through the usual administrative and introductory work to familiarize ourselves with our roles and responsibilities as guides with the Government of Canada. This was followed with a brief tour of the memorial itself, and then of the tunnels used by Canadians during the battle, some eight metres below the surface. We then drove to Beaumont-Hamel to visit the Newfoundland Memorial, about sixty minutes away.
The Battle of the Somme represents for many the senseless and brutal slaughter that was the Great War. In the first day of the battle alone, the British Empire lost 60,000 men - and this was a battle that lasted nearly four months. The Royal Newfoundland Regiment, made up of men from the Dominion of Newfoundland (independent from Canada until 1949), has been transferred to the Western Front from their post in Gallipoli in March of 1916, and was part of the 29th British Division on the first day of the Somme. It remains an infamous day in British military history, but particularly for the people of Newfoundland.
When the Newfoundland Regiment advanced the morning of July 1st, 1916, they faced barbed wire defenses and artillery fire, and struggled to advance over the bodies of the dead and wounded men who had faced the same perils minutes before. Pinned down by heavy machine gun fire, the Newfoundlanders relented in their push and moved back towards their trench, only to be gunned down as they retreated. They suffered a horrendous casualty rate of 90% and of the 780 Newfoundlanders who had gone over the top, 68 answered roll call the following morning.
A lone caribou stands watch over the remains of the battlefield today, representing Newfoundland and the caribou on the crest of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment. The land it overlooks is the largest section of the Battle of the Somme that remains, the rest now stretching out as tranquil farmland in all directions.
After visiting Beaumont-Hamel, we returned to Arras, only to find that our house was still frigid. As it turns out, we were out of oil, and none could be delivered until the following day. Mercifully, several space heaters had been dropped off for our use. We plugged in a few of them and began to cook supper. Meanwhile, as we turned on the electrical heaters around the house, we threw the circuit, leaving the house in complete darkness, and our meals cold. Unable to fix the problem with the usual fuse box-flick, we called in a repairman, and went off in search of fries via fry wagon, or some other such French delicacy. We found one down the street and, after ordering, returned home and sat down for our first family meal together at Vauban, bonding over heaping portions of fries and croque-monsieurs, or other such sandwiches.
With the power restored, we re-set our alarm clocks and climbed into out cold beds in our cold house. However, our grumbling complaints from that morning were perhaps somewhat muted after having walked through the fields where Canadians had suffered far worse conditions and awaited far worse fates so many years ago.
The Vimy Shuffle - Part II
Friday started with what I have come to accept as the typical hostel breakfast: tons of bread, Nutella, bland cereal and coffee. I shared it and stories of home and travels with a Vancouverite named Sarah, who was just beginning her own 3-month adventure in Europe. From there, I packed my bags and headed to Paris Nord train station for my trip north. Being as I had left Montreal in -30 temperatures, the +3 Parisian climate seemed balmy by comparison. I entered the station in a long-sleeve t-shirt which was met with some very cold stares from some very cold commuters who were huddled around space heaters, bundled up in what seemed to be every piece of winter clothing they owned.
The beauty of the Northern French countryside as viewed by train is bested only by the small towns that dot the landscape. A 50-minute train ride brought me into the town of Arras, a small town (at 48,000, slightly larger than Charlottetown) in the Pas-de-Calais department in northern France, approaching the Belgian border. Arras was founded by Belgic tribes and later became an important garrison town for the Roman Empire. The modern form of the town took shape around the Benedictine Abbey of St. Vaast sometime in the 5th century. Situated in the path of pivotal battles of the First World War, Arras was devastated by the bombing and warfare, and much of the original Gothic architecture of the city was destroyed, though much has been restored, making the two large squares, Grande Place and the Place des Héros, along with the imposing town belfry, some of the most picturesque in all of Europe.
At the train station I was met by André, the Visitor Activities Support Officer here in France, and Lauren Johnson, another guide who arrived on the same train. André gave us a brief overview of Arras en route to one of the two houses occupied by guides here in Arras, and gave me a tour of the house that I would be living in. The house at Vauban is a three-storey residence owned by the Government of Canada that is leased to guides during the duration of their stay here in Arras. The ground floor has a small kitchen and pantry (with 3 fridges and a freezer to accommodate all our food and drink), a large living room and dining room, as well as a large back patio area, garage (for bikes and garbage) and laundry facilities. (It also has a toilet in a closet). Upstairs there are, in total, four rooms, two large bathrooms, another toilet closet, and a very odd hallway filled with abnormally large closets. For my three months here, I will be living at Vauban with 6 other guides (split between those four bedrooms), with the additional 7 guides living at a large 3-floor apartment a short distance from here.
Throughout Friday, my co-workers slowly trickled into Arras with each arriving train, so that by that evening, all but two had arrived. We spent Friday night talking and getting to know each other, but as jet-lag set in, all of us crashed early and hard and retired to bed, where most of us stayed until early the following afternoon.
On Saturday I took my first walk alone around Arras, visiting the town squares and the massive Cathédrale Notre-Dame-et-Saint-Vaast d'Arras, which was built on the site of a 1000-year old Cathedral in 1833, after the original basilica was destroyed in the French Revolution. Over the course of the day, Jenna and Sahar, the last two components of our 14-member team, arrived in Arras. The full roster congregated at Vauban for some additional introductions and an animated game of Sociables. And so, along with seven Ontarians*, one Newfie, a Nova Scotian, a Manitoban, an Albertan, a British Columbian and an army brat from all over (but primarily from Ottawa), I headed out on the town in Arras.
*I feel it important to note here that while there are seven Ontarians in our group, not one of them identifies themselves as being from Toronto. (Although, for all intents and purposes, Pickering is pretty much downtown Toronto.)
The beauty of the Northern French countryside as viewed by train is bested only by the small towns that dot the landscape. A 50-minute train ride brought me into the town of Arras, a small town (at 48,000, slightly larger than Charlottetown) in the Pas-de-Calais department in northern France, approaching the Belgian border. Arras was founded by Belgic tribes and later became an important garrison town for the Roman Empire. The modern form of the town took shape around the Benedictine Abbey of St. Vaast sometime in the 5th century. Situated in the path of pivotal battles of the First World War, Arras was devastated by the bombing and warfare, and much of the original Gothic architecture of the city was destroyed, though much has been restored, making the two large squares, Grande Place and the Place des Héros, along with the imposing town belfry, some of the most picturesque in all of Europe.
At the train station I was met by André, the Visitor Activities Support Officer here in France, and Lauren Johnson, another guide who arrived on the same train. André gave us a brief overview of Arras en route to one of the two houses occupied by guides here in Arras, and gave me a tour of the house that I would be living in. The house at Vauban is a three-storey residence owned by the Government of Canada that is leased to guides during the duration of their stay here in Arras. The ground floor has a small kitchen and pantry (with 3 fridges and a freezer to accommodate all our food and drink), a large living room and dining room, as well as a large back patio area, garage (for bikes and garbage) and laundry facilities. (It also has a toilet in a closet). Upstairs there are, in total, four rooms, two large bathrooms, another toilet closet, and a very odd hallway filled with abnormally large closets. For my three months here, I will be living at Vauban with 6 other guides (split between those four bedrooms), with the additional 7 guides living at a large 3-floor apartment a short distance from here.
Throughout Friday, my co-workers slowly trickled into Arras with each arriving train, so that by that evening, all but two had arrived. We spent Friday night talking and getting to know each other, but as jet-lag set in, all of us crashed early and hard and retired to bed, where most of us stayed until early the following afternoon.
On Saturday I took my first walk alone around Arras, visiting the town squares and the massive Cathédrale Notre-Dame-et-Saint-Vaast d'Arras, which was built on the site of a 1000-year old Cathedral in 1833, after the original basilica was destroyed in the French Revolution. Over the course of the day, Jenna and Sahar, the last two components of our 14-member team, arrived in Arras. The full roster congregated at Vauban for some additional introductions and an animated game of Sociables. And so, along with seven Ontarians*, one Newfie, a Nova Scotian, a Manitoban, an Albertan, a British Columbian and an army brat from all over (but primarily from Ottawa), I headed out on the town in Arras.
*I feel it important to note here that while there are seven Ontarians in our group, not one of them identifies themselves as being from Toronto. (Although, for all intents and purposes, Pickering is pretty much downtown Toronto.)
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Vimy Shuffle - Part I
There is a time and place for changes of pace, and as I fought through the tedium of third-year law this past semester, I felt one was inevitable. Thankfully, I was presented with an amazing opportunity to apply to work as a guide for the Federal Government at Vimy Ridge and Beaumont-Hamel in Northern France, educating visitors on Canada's (and Newfoundland's) contributions and sacrifices during the Great War. It was certainly a chance that was too good to pass up. And so, after an interview process, a request to take a hiatus from law school, and a lengthy visa application process, I found myself standing in line at Charles de Gaulle International in Paris, clearing customs after a long flight where I had accrued all of 30 minutes of sleep, ate the typical airline microwaved chicken dinner and had lost six hours somewhere over the Atlantic.
"Do you like McGill Law?" a lady beside me queried in French, gesturing towards my red McGill hoodie. "Ummm. It's alright." I replied, mustering as positive a reaction as I could in regards to the institution that had helped facilitate much of my aforementioned tedium. We talked about McGill, Montreal, the French language, Acadians, PEI and so forth, as the line slowly snaked towards the sole customs officer. France may have the most ridiculously lax customs process that I have ever seen. After barely looking at each passport, the guard stamped his approval, and each traveler was unleashed on France on their own recognizance without so much as a bag search, metal detector scan or even a question. After a train ride and a crash course in the metro system, I stumbled into St. Christopher's Hostel, claimed my bunk bed, and effortlessly slipped into sleep.
At 5:00 the next morning, however, I was deep in the throes of a bout of jet-lag, and was strongly regretting my mid-day nap. The smell and snores emanating from my bunk mate below certainly didn't help either. Relief from my insomnia and headache finally came at around 6:00 and after two hours of sleep, I promised myself that I would stay awake all day and try to reset my circadian rhythm as soon as possible. I spent the morning reading up on Vimy Ridge and the Battle of the Somme, before falling asleep by accident for a couple hours in the afternoon. At around 17:30 I headed out into Paris to visit Notre Dame and meet up with a friend.
Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris towers over the edge of the Seine on the Île de la Cité in Paris. Construction of the French Gothic Cathedral began on the former site of the first Christian church in France, Saint Etienne, in 1163 and was not completely finished until 1345. The impressive, humbling edifice is famed for its stained glass, and attracts 13 million visitors each year, more than even the Eiffel Tower or the Louvres. Although I had already visited the church in 2007, I was still staggered by its grandeur. This grandeur was heightened as they ushered visitors out and turned off the lights to the exhibits for the beginning of evening vespers and Mass. Complete with clouds of incense and the Latin chants of the choir, the stately basilica is all the more incredible when clothed in the ceremony and celebration for which it was designed.
My next stop was to meet up with Thomas Vignal, a native of Paris and one-time exchange student to UPEI. Having met on the plane from Montreal to Charlottetown, I was the first Islander Thomas has met on his trip, so it seemed fitting to be able to spend a few hours with him and his mother during my first full day in France. He met me at the steps of Charles Michel metro, a short walk from the apartment shared by him and his mother. We spent the evening enjoying a magnificent meal prepared by his mother, and talking about everything from great sites to visit in France, to old memories at the Wave. I was especially thankful that the cheese Thomas' mother served after the tremendous meal was, mercifully, mild enough to suit even my unsophisticated palate.
As I laid down to sleep, more or less on schedule for my new circadian rhythm, I tried not to psyche myself up too much for the following day, one that would take me north to Arras and my new home for the next three months.
"Do you like McGill Law?" a lady beside me queried in French, gesturing towards my red McGill hoodie. "Ummm. It's alright." I replied, mustering as positive a reaction as I could in regards to the institution that had helped facilitate much of my aforementioned tedium. We talked about McGill, Montreal, the French language, Acadians, PEI and so forth, as the line slowly snaked towards the sole customs officer. France may have the most ridiculously lax customs process that I have ever seen. After barely looking at each passport, the guard stamped his approval, and each traveler was unleashed on France on their own recognizance without so much as a bag search, metal detector scan or even a question. After a train ride and a crash course in the metro system, I stumbled into St. Christopher's Hostel, claimed my bunk bed, and effortlessly slipped into sleep.
At 5:00 the next morning, however, I was deep in the throes of a bout of jet-lag, and was strongly regretting my mid-day nap. The smell and snores emanating from my bunk mate below certainly didn't help either. Relief from my insomnia and headache finally came at around 6:00 and after two hours of sleep, I promised myself that I would stay awake all day and try to reset my circadian rhythm as soon as possible. I spent the morning reading up on Vimy Ridge and the Battle of the Somme, before falling asleep by accident for a couple hours in the afternoon. At around 17:30 I headed out into Paris to visit Notre Dame and meet up with a friend.
Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris towers over the edge of the Seine on the Île de la Cité in Paris. Construction of the French Gothic Cathedral began on the former site of the first Christian church in France, Saint Etienne, in 1163 and was not completely finished until 1345. The impressive, humbling edifice is famed for its stained glass, and attracts 13 million visitors each year, more than even the Eiffel Tower or the Louvres. Although I had already visited the church in 2007, I was still staggered by its grandeur. This grandeur was heightened as they ushered visitors out and turned off the lights to the exhibits for the beginning of evening vespers and Mass. Complete with clouds of incense and the Latin chants of the choir, the stately basilica is all the more incredible when clothed in the ceremony and celebration for which it was designed.
My next stop was to meet up with Thomas Vignal, a native of Paris and one-time exchange student to UPEI. Having met on the plane from Montreal to Charlottetown, I was the first Islander Thomas has met on his trip, so it seemed fitting to be able to spend a few hours with him and his mother during my first full day in France. He met me at the steps of Charles Michel metro, a short walk from the apartment shared by him and his mother. We spent the evening enjoying a magnificent meal prepared by his mother, and talking about everything from great sites to visit in France, to old memories at the Wave. I was especially thankful that the cheese Thomas' mother served after the tremendous meal was, mercifully, mild enough to suit even my unsophisticated palate.
As I laid down to sleep, more or less on schedule for my new circadian rhythm, I tried not to psyche myself up too much for the following day, one that would take me north to Arras and my new home for the next three months.
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